


Tony Stark

by Buckybeardreams



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Classifications, Gen, Heavy Angst, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt No Comfort, I dont think the violence is really all that graphic, If you havent jumped on baord the hating Howard train, Littles Are Known, Mentions of spanking and whipping and other abuse, Non-Sexual Age Play, Not like bloody umm but like descriptive sometimes, Nothing new guys, Nvmd i take it back, Oh and of course Obie's awful too, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tread lightly with the first chapter guys, We all already knew about Tony's childhood, You should jump on board now, You should skip the first chapter if you don't want to read about it and cry, alternate universe - classifications, be warned, but it is bone chillingly awful the way childabuse tends to be, it's kinda graphic, many triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27983970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckybeardreams/pseuds/Buckybeardreams
Summary: Tony's backstory for my Classifications AU
Relationships: Edwin Jarvis & Tony Stark, Maria Stark & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Tony Stark

**Author's Note:**

> I wouldn't really call this a story.
> 
> It's more of a collection of information. Some that happen to appear in the form of extremely short stories, I guess you could say.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's tragic childhood. If you haven't jumped aboard this hating Howard train yet, I highly suggest you jump on board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof! This is not a good tone to set for the new year, y'all. Clint's struggling, Tony's having doubts about his relationship and now I'm diving into Tony's traumatic childhood. Jeez, why?
> 
> I would just like to reiterate that this is not really a story, it's just a collection of scenes from Tony's past in a very loose story like structure. Very loose. Storyish, but definitely not a story. Does that make sense? 
> 
> No? 
> 
> Okay, moving on.
> 
> This first chapter is terribly sad and horribly triggering, so if you don't want to read about Tony being abused as a child, you should definitely NOT read this first chapter.
> 
> I would say enjoy, but that's not really a good word to use here. Read at your own risk, is probably more fitting.

In a large mansion in California, a little boy was terrified. His father was on a drunken rampage and the young boy was making himself scarce. Tony huddled in the corner of the room. A wet stain was visible. His crotch and his inner thighs darker than the rest of his designer jeans. His father's voice could be heard screaming from down the hall. He was looking for the boy, but Tony knew better than to come out of hiding. He knew what waited for him, when his father eventually found him.

His father had never wanted children. The Dom felt that kids were nothing but a nuisance. He had fallen for a Sub who had a tender heart and a caring nature. Maria Stark dreamed of a big happy family, with kids and pets, and two happy parents. Howard loved her deeply. They were young when they met and young when they married. He wanted to give her the world on a silver platter. He wanted to make her dreams come true. To take her wishes and turn them into reality. He tried desperately to spin hay into gold for his wife, but no matter how much fortune he obtained and how much jewelry he adorned her with, she remained adamant, that what she truly wanted was a baby.

Howard finally relented, against his better judgment, and allowed her to stop taking her birth control. Contraception was a thing of the past for the couple as they tried relentlessly to conceive. To Maria's dismay, she couldn't. Her dreams of birthing many children, were turned to ash. Her husband, distraught by her pain, dished out millions of dollars to professionals to tell them what was wrong and on IVF, when all else failed.

Finally after years of trying to conceive, Maria became pregnant. She was delighted and her husband happy to see her so happy. It all started going downhill once the baby was born. A baby boy named Anthony Edward Stark, joined their family and Howard was pleased that, at the very least, the child would carry on the family name. Yet, the boy, despite being deemed the prodigal child by media, never could live up to his father's high demands. The man's unrealistic expectations of his son kept them from ever truly bonding.

He only became angrier the older the boy got. Maria coddled the child. Calling him Tony, and offering him hugs when he did things that Howard didn't think were impressive in the slightest. He expected his child to be an innovative engineer out of the womb, but the baby didn't even speak intelligibly for two years. Even then, the words he strung together were meaningless to the man. He had no use for a child who pointed out unimportant facts that were obvious to Howard, like the color of his toys. He wanted a child who would solve the unsolvable and do the unthinkable. 

"Mama! Wook!"

"What do you see, Tony?"

"Um? Twain?"

Maria smiled at the toddler, brushing a hand through his hair.

"My little genius."

Tony beamed at the praise.

"Bwue." He told her.

Maria opened her mouth to praise him again, but Howard scoffed.

"Don't encourage this nonsense, Maria. There's nothing impressive about knowing what a train is, or what color it is. Now, if the boy could take a part a train's engine and put it back together again, or fix a broken one, that might be worth praising him for."

Maria frowned.

"He's just a baby, Howard." She whispered, meekly.

"He's _not_ a baby. He's a child, and not a very bright one at that. No smarter than the average child his age." Howard snapped.

Tony pouted. Maria shushed him, when he whimpered. Rubbing his back soothingly.

"I can see you're busy, dear. I'll just take Tony to his playroom."

Every step of the way the child seemed to disappoint his father. He allowed the public to ooh and aah over the four years old first circuit board, but Howard knew it wasn't good enough. The boy should be building something new and never before built, not recreating things that had already been done before. So, Howard pushed the boy to achieve more.

He was furious when the child reached his sixth year and was still struggling with his bladder. He took him to the most well paid specialists and when they told him there was nothing wrong with the boy, he had them fired. Clearly they were imbeciles, because there was something gravely wrong with his son.

His temper raged on, and the once loving husband was replaced by a cold and cruel man. He belted the boy for the slightest wrong doings, locked him in the closet when he complained of nightmares, and poured hot sauce on his tongue when he didn't speak properly.

As the years went by it became more and more noticeable that the child was a Little. No matter how many times Howard beat him, the boy still wet his bed. Howard was able to use fear to keep the child from talking like a baby, or partaking in childish games. The one thing he couldn't punish out of the boy was his biology.

Aunt Peggy walked into his room, searching for the boy. Tony was crying on his bed, and she approached him, concerned. It was dark. The lights off obstructed her view of the young child.

"What's wrong, little one?"

He just hugged his knees to him, curling up in a ball and sobbing. His body ached and he had a headache from crying. She reached out to rub his back, snapping her hand back to her side when the small boy screamed in pain. His body shook from sobs as he cried harder.

"Tony, dear, look at me. What's wrong? Tell me, what's wrong?" She asked him urgently.

He couldn't stop the tears that poured down his cheeks. His cries were becoming hysterical now and Peggy was seriously concerned. She grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet. He cried out again, but bit his lip to silence himself. He bit so hard that blood trickled down his chin. Droplets fell to the ground, staining the carpet red.

Peggy took in the child's appearance, getting a good look at him. His eyes were red and puffy from the tears, his lip broken, and there was a nasty bruise on his cheek. She stared horrified at the boy. Peggy Carter, was no fool. She was a spy for the federal government. She knew that these injuries came from a fist. The fist of a large man, no doubt. She unbuttoned the boys shirt, pulling it off of him frantically, as he whimpered. The sight had her blood freezing in her veins. The bruises all over his body were clearly from different beatings. Shades ranging from purples and blues to ugly hues of yellows. Someone had been using this boy as a punching bag, for quite some time, from the look of it.

"Tony, I need you to tell me who did this to you." She told the boy firmly.

His lip quivered as he tried to hold back more sobs. He looked terrified. Peggy felt bad, but she needed to hear the boy say it. She needed him to confirm her suspicions. She wasn't a fool. She knew this had to have come from someone close to him. She knew there was no way his parents were unaware of the torment their child was being put through. She knew it had to be his father. The man she worked along side.

"Tony, now." She demanded.

"It was m-my father." The boy got out, his voice small and broken.

"You're father did this to you?" Peggy asked, though it wasn't really a question.

She knew Tony wasn't lying. Even so, it was a hard pill to swallow. The truth was unavoidable. The evidence was clearly painted all over the boys body, like a grotesque work of art. The truth was impossible to deny. Still, Peggy didn't want to believe it. The boy nodded at her, and she saw red.

"Stay here. Put this back on." She helped the boy back into his shirt, buttoning it back up. "Don't come out of your room, until I come for you, do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am." He whispered.

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his forehead and leaving the room. Tony curled back up on his bed. He heard shouting eventually followed by the slamming of a door. Aunt Peggy never came back for him. He stayed on his bed, until morning when Jarvis came to get him for breakfast. He found the boy in clothes that had hardened from the urine that had dried hours earlier. The room reeked of piss and blood was dripping off his chin, forming a puddle in his lap, as he stared blankly at the wall.

* * *

His mother tried to intervene on his behalf, but Howard punished her severely for speaking out against him. Maria eventually stopped, instead she would just cower in the other room, and weep when she saw the bruises and welts that marked her son's skin. Jarvis and Ana, house servants, would try to cheer up the child to the best of their ability when his father wasn't around, but wouldn't dare to step in.

The boys aunt Peggy, absolutely adored her nephew, but she yelled at Howard for mistreating him one day when he was five, after seeing bruises on his body. Tony never saw her again. Peggy reported Howard, hoping to have the boy removed from his custody, but learned that money could sweep even the darkest of deeds under the rug.

Howard hated Maria for her love for the child. A love that surpasses her love for her husband. He hated his son for being weak. He hated that his wife despised his attempts to correct the boys behavior. He hated that the moment he turned his back, the woman would hug and soothe the child, as though he deserved the affection. If he didn't think it would reflect badly upon him, he would have just gotten rid of the child. His wife would never forgive him for it, not that it mattered. She already hated him for the way he treated Tony, but she couldn't leave him.

Howard was a traditionalist, and he believed, on all accounts, that he owned the woman. The laws that bonded the pair were in his favor, as well. If she ever tried to leave him, it would be within his rights to hunt her down and drag her back kicking and screaming. If he punished her so severely for her disobedience, that the wounds were fatal, the world wouldn't even view it as a crime. Certainly, it was frowned upon to cause fatal injury to ones Sub, but it was expected that they would be punished for stepping out of line. Sometimes the line between punishment and death were so faint they weren't even there.

* * *

"What is wrong with you, huh boy? So soft, so weak. It's pathetic."

Tony looked down in shame at his father's words. His hand was all cut up from working in the lab and he'd made the mistake of complaining that it hurt. He steeled himself for the impact that inevitably would come. Howard was definitely going to punish him for this.

"Huh? Tell me you little piece of shit. What did I do to deserve a wretched son like you. Barely even a son. You might as well be a girl with how much you cry."

Tony tried to hold in the whimper that was bubbling up in his throat, but failed. The sound came out, along with a few tears that tried to brush away before they could be seen. Howard saw them. He glared at the child.

"I should put you over my knee for your hysterics. Crying. Pathetic. Starks don't cry. God, I hoped your weakness was just that of a child, but as you age I have to accept it's just you. I bet your a damn Sub, like your mother. A _girl_." Howard sneered.

His hand reached out and grabbed Tony around his wrist. The grip was bone breaking and Tony knew it would leave a nasty bruise. The pressure increased until there was a sickening crack. Tony screamed. It was agony. He was scared and all alone with this 

cruel man. His mom was locked in her cage, because she had been bad. Tony wished he could be locked away too. If that meant he didn't have to be with his father, than it'd be worth the dark cramped space of the closet his dad liked to put him in.

Anything was better than this.

"If you don't quit that racket, I promise you'll regret it."

Tony tried to stop. He really did. He knew he was being bad. Only bad little boys cried. Only bad little boys screamed. He wanted to be good. He really did. He just couldn't make the sound stop. He was clutching at his wrist. It was already staring to swell and become puffy. He knew he had to be quiet. He couldn't stop.

"I said shut up!"

His father's hand backhanded him, Tony's head snapping back with a force that could have snapped his neck. His screams didn't stop though. They only got louder as his dad grabbed him by his injured wrist. Tony's feet couldn't keep up with his father's strides, and he found himself being dragged across the ground.

It was torture as Howard's hand hit the boys bare backside relentlessly. Over and over again. He didn't stop until Tony had passed out from the pain. His skin was purple with bruises and broken open from the blows.

* * *

"Ja'vis! Whatcha doin'?" Tony asked, tilting his head.

Jarvis smiled down at the boy, his hands stilling on the rolling pin. Tony licked his lips and swiped a finger through the bowl of dough. He stuck the finger in his mouth, sucking the sugary mix off his finger.

"Mmm!" He said, grinning at Jarvis.

The butler narrowed his eyes playfully at him. Poking at Tony's side with a flour covered finger. Tony flinched away, and Jarvis sucked in a breath a pained look on his face. He smiled sympathetically at the boy and bopped Tony's nose instead. The boy giggled, wiping the back of his hand across his nose.

"Ja'vis!" He giggled.

"Would you like to help, young sir."

"Can I?" Tony said, eagerly.

Jarvis smiled.

"Of course! Hop up on the stool and you can help me roll out the dough."

Jarvis pulled up a wooden stool, settling it in front of the flour covered counter. A partially flattened ball of cookie dough in the middle of the flour. Tony hopped up on the stool, reaching out for the rolling pin. He grasped it in his small hand. Jarvis readjusted his hands slightly, before placing his own larger ones over Tony's. He helped him roll out the dough, until it was flat enough to press metal cookie cutters into it. The cookies they made were perfectly uniformed circles. Round and flat and soft. Tony poked his finger into one of them, giggling.

"Tony, what are you doing?" Jarvis asked him, chuckling.

The boy shrugged.

"Don't know, Ja'vis."

Jarvis smiled and lifted him off of the stool. He set Tony on the island, telling him to stay put. Tony hummed and kicked his feet against the front of the island. A soft thud, eachtime his heel came in contact with the wooden board. He watched Jarvis take the circle shaped cookies and set them out on a baking sheet, before popping them in the preheated oven. 

He turned around to Tony, who grinned at him. Jarvis smiled and lifted him off the counter, setting him on his feet.

"Come along, young sir."

"Okay, Ja'vis!" Tony chirped.

He skipped along next to the butler, his hand slipped into the larger one. His body tensed when he heard his dad yelling and his mom sobbing. Jarvis pulled the boy to a stop, holding his finger up to his lip, a grave expression on his face. He scooped Tony up and pulled him down a narrow hall, intended for servants to slip through unseen by guests. Tony whimpered, hiding his face in his neck. Jarvis rubbed his back soothingly.

He didn't set Tony down, walking quickly and silently through the house, until they reached a separate wing. Only then did Tony find himself back on his feet.

"Let's get you washed up, young sir." Jarvis said.

Tony nodded.

"Is Mama okay?" He asked as Jarvis ran a bath for him.

The servant glanced at him, smiling grimly.

"You're mother is-" Jarvis paused, conflicted. "You will see her later."

Tony frowned.

"Is she in timeout?"

Jarvis pursed his lips.

"I'm not sure, Tony."

"I don't like the closet, Ja'vis. It's scawy."

"I know, little one." Jarvis said sadly.

"I'm a good boy." Tony insisted.

"You are. You always are a good boy, Tony."

"Daddy doesn't think I'm a good boy."

"You're father is a complicated man." Jarvis said, his distaste obvious. "You must not allow his opinion to shape you. You are so much more than he'll ever see you for."

Tony shifted on his feet, his finger nails digging into his palms. Jarvis helped him undress and climb into the tub. He didn't have bath toys anymore. His father had thrown them out. Told him he was too old for such nonsense. Jarvis told him stories of soldiers at war that saved the day, though. Tony asked questions and waved his arms around animatedly as he made up his own stories.

As Jarvis dried him off and dressed him in his trousers and blouse, encouraging him to go potty first, Tony felt the dread building inside of him. He didn't want to go back out there. He didn't want to sit at the dinner table. So far away from his mother at the end, and far to close to his father on the otherside. That was, if his mother wasn't in timeout. If she was, well, then Tony wasn't sure when he'd see her again.

Jarvis smiled at him, but it looked sad. Tony collapsed into his arms, when Jarvis's hands stilled.

"I love you, Ja'vis."

"I love you, too, Tony."

* * *

Tony stared at the sparkly ornaments on the tree and they glistened and gleamed. His feet shuffling closer and closer. He glanced warily around the room as he did so, before his eyes fell on the sparkly ornament. Round and beautiful. Tony was entranced by the sight and his hand reached out to touch it. His fingertips barely grazing the rough painted on sparkles, before a hand was crushing his wrist, ripping him away from the beautiful ornament and throwing him to the ground.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Anthony?" His father roared, looming threateningly over him.

Tony's eyes widened, and fear gripped at his throat, catching his breath and refusing to let him breath. A small whimper escaped him, when his father's eyes narrowed.

"Huh, boy? What the hell's wrong with you? I told you not to touch any of the decorations, didn't I?"

Tony nodded his head rapidly.

"Answer me, goddammit!"

"Y-yes, s-sir." The boy stuttered.

"You're pathetic. Stumbling over your words like a goddamn baby. Get on your feet, boy." Howard snapped.

Tony scrambled to push himself up, trying not to cower away from his father, as he unbuckled his belt and slipped it out of his belt loops. He brandished the strip of leather lick a whip, the loud boom stopping Tony's heart as it hit the air. Tony couldn't contain his screams, when it came down on him, though he knew screaming would only make it worse.

* * *

When the boy was ten years of age, his father dragged him to a classification center, drawing the results. He wasn't shocked when the child was deemed a Little, but that didn't stop him from punishing the child severely for something he had no control over. The examiner was made to sign an NDA stating he would never reveal the results of the test, and the boy's classification became classified. To any one who asked Howard would tell them all the signs pointed to the boy being a Dom. In Howard's eyes, it was the only acceptable class for a man. Had he had a daughter, he would have expected her to follow in her mother's footsteps.

Though he insisted to his friends that his son was a Dom, Howard was not delusional. He knew his son could never pass for what would be considered dominant. So, when he had Tony's papers altered, he had ot put down that the boy was a Neutral, and then he warned the boy that he better make sure it was believable. From that day forward, Tony Stark distanced himself from anything even remotely childish. The few toys that remained in their house disappeared overnight. His bedding no longer had prints on it and Tony tried his best to keep them dry. When he couldn't he made sure to hide the evidence.

* * *

Howard glared down at Tony. The boy cowered away from him.

"I don't care what that man said, or what the results of those stupid tests were. You are not a Little. Do you hear me?"

Tony nodded.

"Use your words." Howard barked.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. My son is not one of those people. We may never be able to convince anyone that you're a Dom, but I'll be damned if you're ever outed as a Little." Howard sneered. "You're a Neutral from here on out. If anyone asks, that's the answer you'll give. If I ever see you acting like a goddamm baby, boy I swear I will beat you until you no longer are able to disappoint me. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Tony said, trying to keep himself from shaking.

* * *

It was late one night when Howard and his wife, Maria were headed to a hotel after an out of state charity event. A man who had been paid off by one Obadiah Stane, stepped out in front of their vehicle. Howard slammed on the breaks, swerving to avoid a collision. They drove of the side of the road and slammed into a building. The couple sustained injuries, but would have survived, if it wasn't for the two bullets the man put through their skulls.

The detectives who investigated the scene were paid off. Which is why the police report said that it was just a run of the mill car accident, despite the bullet holes in the window. The medical examiner was also paid off. Which is why their report verified that they died of wounds sustained in a car accident, despite the obvious gunshot wounds to their heads. Obadiah Stane was willing to go to any means neccessary to take over Stark Industries.

That meant taking in his nephew, Tony Stark. The rightful inheritor of the company. Obie considered just killing the boy too, but he had developed a bit of a soft spot for the child. 

The boy, despite Howard's incessant complaints, was indeed a genius as the world had proclaimed him to be. Obie saw no reason to do away with someone so vulnerable, that he could easily make a fortune off of. So, he set Tony to work building weapons and machinery for the military. The twelve year old was a quick learner and eager to please. A dangerous combination in the hands of such a cruel man. Obie used his lack of self worth to his advantage. Providing minimal amounts of praise to inspire maximum productivity.

Soon, the business was booming and the company was worth billions. The more power Obie got his hands on, the more power he wanted. Playing by the books wasn't enough for him anymore. He started dealing on the sidelines, too. Sending the SI weapons to the enemies of the very government he was promising safety and protection to through the use of SI products.

* * *

"My boy! What are you working on?" Obie asked, barging into his lab.

Tony looked up from his work table and grinned at his uncle.

"Uncle Obie! You're back!"

"Sure am. Now, tell me what you're doing."

Tony was eager to explain his latest invention. Stronger, deadlier, perhaps the most lethal of his designs to date. His uncle would be thrilled. Indeed, he was.

"Good job, my boy! Well done. I'm sure this will do well on the market."

Tony nodded feeling pride swelling in his chest.

"Thank you, Uncle."

"Well, get back to work, then. Time is money."

"Of course." The twelve year old said, turning his attention back to his work obediently.

* * *

Tony had messed up. He knew it. Obie knew it. He was devastated, because he had disappointed his uncle. The man who had been kind of enough to take in Tony. A Little who was nothing more than a burden on the world around him. That's all babies were, afterall. A lot more work than worth putting in for someone so weal and pathetic.

Tony flinched as Obie's hand slammed down on the work table.

"Goddammit! What's wrong with you, boy? Huh? I gave you one simple task. Take it and make it more compact. What's so hard about that, huh?"

"I tried, but I couldn't." Tony argued.

Obie's eyes flashed with anger and he backhanded Tony, his head snapping to the side from the force of the blow.

"Don't you dare talk back to me, you pathetic little brat. I take you in, I keep you around, even though I know your filthy little secret and how do you repay me? You fail the simplest of tasks!"

Tony clutched his cheek. Tears pouring down his face.

"I'm sorry. I tried. I really did."

"I don't want to hear your excuses, boy. Get it done. Prove yourself worth keeping around, because if you continue to be this useless, I'll toss you out. Where will you be, then, huh? Do you think anyone else would be willing to put up with your shit?"

Tony shook his head.

"No, sir."

"That's right. Noone cares about you like I do, Tony. Don't disappoint me again. Get back to work."

* * *

Tony's lip quivered. His hands were sore, and he'd burnt his arm on his torch. He just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but he couldn't stop. Obie would be disappointed in him, if he did. He pushed on, forcing himself to keep going, though his body begged him to stop. To rest. To eat. He ignored the rumble of his stomach and fought against his eyes that threatened to close, and not one again.

"Tony!"

Tony flinched at the sound of his uncle's booming voice.

"Yes, Uncle?" He called out.

"There you are. Jesus, you look like hell."

"Sorry, Uncle."

Obie studied him for a moment, taking in the boys fragile appearance. It was in moments like these that Obie differed drastically from Howard. Where Howard would see the worn down boy and choose to beat him down more, Obie saw this as an opportunity. Breaking down Tony, meant he could build him up, in the way that benefited him most. The key was to build him back up, once he was broken.

"Oh, my boy. Come, come."

Tony glanced up from his tools, shaking in his hands as he fought off sleep.

"But I'm not done."

"No, no, enough of that." Obie said, steering Tony away from the table and taking the tools from his hands.

"Come now, sit down." Obie coaxed.

Tony dropped down on the couch, sniffling.

"Oh, don't cry now. Here, sit with me, until you're feeling better."

Obie wrapped his arm around Tony's shoulder and pulled him close.

"There, there, my little genius. You've done so good."

Tony broke down, his shoulders shaking from the force of his sobs. Obie held him as he cried, enduring the boys melt down, because he knew Tony would be more loyal to him, if he showed him some affection.

"I'm so tired, Uncle." Tony said, in between sobs.

"Oh, I know. Here, why don't you lay down, and I'll grab you a bite to eat, for when you wake up from your nap."

"But I'm not done with-"

"Shh, none of that. You'll rest. You'll eat. Then, you'll get right back to work, understood?"

Tony nodded.

"Thank you." He whispered, as though Obie were showing him a great mercy.

"Of course, my boy."

* * *

Tony sighed and stared longingly out the window. He was attending another stupid event for the company. He despised the events, but his uncle would never forgive him for bailing. Tony glanced up at the strange driver and felt a twinge in his chest. He frowned. He wasn't quite sure why. It took him a moment to realize what it was.

He was yearning for the old butler his parents had. Jarvis. Tony's memories of those days were haunted by his father's looming shadow. Hovering over his memories the way Howard towered over Tony as a child. He tried to forget those days, so much so that he rarely ever thought of Jarvis. Thought of the man he had held in such high esteem, were always shrouded by thoughts of his father.

Tony promised himself as he was driven to the company party, that he would do something, build something, that would keep Jarvis alive in his memory forever. He would make sure that he'd never truly forget the man who had always been more of a father figure to him than his own father, even if the memories of the man himself faded, hidden behind his dark past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever to edit, cuz I honestly hate it. Any mistakes I will blame on the fact that I didn't want to just keep rereading this over and over, cuz I don't enjoy suffering unnecessarily. Though, if the stories I write are any indication, than apparently I do enjoy making myself suffer. I must be a masochist guys. Is emotional masochism a thing? Honestly, everything about this just makes me want to cry. 
> 
> My poor baby, why did I do this to him? I could have given Tony a happy back story, but no, I was like let's just make him suffer. Goddamit. Yeah, so this is why Tony's so fucking traumatized and triggered by touching an ornament. Fuck you, Howard, and Obie, too, like jesus christ, it kills me that this is what I chose to do. I also made Bucky's family awful. Why? Why do I do this to myself and to my characters?
> 
> Okay, rant over.
> 
> Like, comment, idk share your pain over Tony's tragic childhood and we can collectively suffer together, but separately. Yeah? No?


End file.
